


Slight me, I kiss you back.

by nichogane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Fun, Humor, Kissing, Living Together, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 18:58:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nichogane/pseuds/nichogane
Summary: Shiro is blatantly messing with Keith, and Keith is blatantly returning the favor when Shiro ignores him. And they spend the whole day blatantly teasing each other on Keith's first day working from home...but Keith is going to break Shiro, and win this battle by kissing him in a variety of ways.“Keith…” Shiro says, and gulps, and let’s out a heavy breath; his arm’s quaking at his boyrfriend’s side, and he can barely keep himself up. “I want you…really bad. I’ve been trying to hold out all day, but you and these kisses have been driving me insane.“And how do you think I’ve been feeling?” Keith asks, lifting Shiro’s face up to meet his gaze. “You left me this morning.”





	Slight me, I kiss you back.

**Author's Note:**

> A remake of a story I wrote eons ago (if you've ever read it), completely changed, trying new kisses, and these two being huge dorks. Onward!

A new day breaks, peaking into the room through the small opening of a blind left as it wasn’t lying flat. The bright light is rude enough to sit on his long eyelashes, making him shut his eyes even tighter. And he pulls the covers over his head, and grumbles, twisting and fiddling with the covers blanketing his bare body, simply because-

He isn’t ready to wake up.

He hates mornings. Insomnia ridden, he is, having fallen asleep only a few hours before, and it takes a single hour, sometimes one and a half, for him to drift off as it is. He has to lay on his side, then his stomach, and maybe he’ll eventually settle on his left. And stick his foot from under the covers, and drag it back in twice. And maybe the pillows are stacked too high, or one is too flat. And he uses two blankets that make him too hot, and using only one isn’t enough. And quite possibly, his fan is up two notches too high, but dialing it to the middle setting makes him uncomfortable. It’s no wonder the birds chirping outside his window ticks his nerves, and the neighbor cutting his grass with that stupid ass lawnmower makes him want to scream. Then this damn sunlight, glowing through the fibers of the blanket, makes him twist and fiddle and shuffle them more- unable to calm and slip back into a slumber.

A cold hand reaches his shoulder, and halts his movements; he flinches under its touch, and shudders as it slides between his shoulder blades. He groans an “ahhh,” irritated, cut off when his lips are captured in a kiss, and his bitterness turns to a sighed, “mmmm”, rumbling in the back of his throat. The corner of his mouth pulls into a smirk, as he throws his arm around the other person’s neck. “Good morning to you to,” he says in the long kiss, and kisses him shortly once more.

“Do you have to fidget so much in the morning?” Shiro asks him when they’ve separated, but only enough so their noses touch. “I kind of like getting all my hours in,” he says, shifting his nose left and right against his boyfriend’s.

“You know I have a hard time falling asleep, and hate mornings,” Keith tells him, and pulls back to see his face, because if there’s only one thing about morning he loves, it’s the way Shiro looks when he first gets up. He loves that his hair is a mess, and his white tuft flips in every direction it can. And that his eyes have this hazed over gloss about them. And his smile is small and soft, but it pushes his cheeks up into his eyes, and he looks like he’s squinting, but really, he’s just tired. Keith glances at him, and smiles looking at him, saying, “but waking up to this ain’t half bad.”

“Hn,” Shiro smirks, and he moves in closer to Keith, pressing his head into his chest, and nuzzles him there. “I can think of another thing that ‘ain’t half bad’ to wake up to,” he says, and presses his lips in-between Keith’s pecks. Keith’s pelvis tenses when Shiro wraps his arm around his waist, pulling his body into the trail of kisses he’s littering down his stomach. And he arches away from him when Shiro’s kiss consists of his bottom lip dragging slowly on his skin before both press together. He’s such a fucking tease, chuckling against Keith, and his voice rattles through his body as Shiro nuzzles the crevice of his groin. And he’s called a tease, because Keith is squirming in his hold, and his hips are trying to pull away from him, but Shiro grabs an ass cheek, chuckling more when Keith jolts from the clutch. “You okay?” he asks Keith, but stretches his tongue across the crevice before he can answer- hot and slow- and Keith whimpers from it. “Yeah,” he pauses, “you are.”

“If you don’t…” Keith tries to threaten, but Shiro moves lower, sucking the inside of his thigh. And his mouth gapes open, drying it to hell, because he’s panting and it’s staggering, and-

“Fuu-uuuuck,” he says, “Shi-shiro,” he’s shuddering, bad, because Shiro’s hair is tickling him, and he’s moaning between his thighs, and grabbing his ass harder. His leg is trembling, and he’s trying to get away, but Shiro leaves no room for him to move; he only has freedom from the waist up, and he’s trying to sit up, but instantly falls back to the bed as his pelvis tenses more, and another moan pulls from his throat. “Shit,” he says, breathless and barely heard, and he gives up his struggle, sliding his fingers into the white tuft; through them, and catches the hairs in his grip for a moment. He whimpers another time, because Shiro’s sure to have formed a bruise, and it’s tender under the kiss Shiro presses to it. “You’re such a damn-“

“I think that’s enough,” Shiro says, and rolls off the bed to Keith’s surprise- surprise being Keith’s eyes wide and his eyebrows pinched. “How about I make us breakfast?”

“How-you…what?!” Keith says, darting up from the bed, as Shiro pulls sleep pants up his legs with his sole arm. “What do you mean ‘cook us breakfast’?” man, his mouth is dry, “we’re not done yet!” he yells, and his voice cracks.

“Pancakes or waffles?” Shiro asks, as if he didn’t hear him, opening the door and letting bitter air blow in. “I’m partial to pancakes, myself.”

“Shiro, I know you’re not ignoring me-“

“Oh, you want waffles? I guess those will do.” Keith’s ears burn, because Shiro is seriously fucking with him, and he can hear him grinning as he walks into the living room. How can you hear someone grinning? He knows it doesn’t make sense, but since Shiro thought he could turn him on, and is now blatantly ignoring the offense, he’s going to get him back ten-fold over today.

 

**-Between the shoulder blades.-**

 

_Ican’tbeweivehedidthatshiz_ , Keith says, running his toothbrush across his teeth, with foam dribbling down the chin, and he doesn’t seem to care. _Ughh,_ he groans, spits, and rinses his mouth, the brush, and the sink, turning the water off before he looks in the mirror. God, he looks like he’s pissed, with his eyes narrowed, eyebrows knit, and his hair is trying to be funny frazzled on one side. What makes it even worse is that Shiro is singing from kitchen, and whistling as bacon sizzles in the pan-

As if he didn’t just play his boyfriend like a fiddle, leave him neglected, insisting he cook a meal Keith didn’t even ask for.

Keith combs his hair, and pulls it back into a ponytail, and snatches his longue pants from the rack on his right. And puts them on, cursing when his toe gets caught in the hem, and he stumbles, colliding with the sink in front of him. “GOT-” he starts to curse, but Shiro calls to him, asking “you plan on getting out of the bathroom any time soon? The food’s almost ready.” Keith rolls his eyes, but you know what-

Two can play this game.

Keith emerges from the bathroom, and walks into the living room, and low and behold, Shiro is doing a little dance behind the counter. Still singing to himself, as he flips the waffle iron open, and inhaling, saying, “man, that smells good.”

“Aren’t you being generous this morning?” Keith says to him as he comes up behind Shiro, pressing himself flush against Shiro’s bare back. He wraps his arms around Shiro’s waist, and pulls in close, resting his head between Shiro’s shoulder blades. He sways with Shiro, dancing to the song stuck in his head, as he picks up waffles with a fork, and puts them on their plates. “How many did you make for me?”

“Two,” Shiro says, reaching into the cabinet for syrup; his muscles flex under Keith, and he shudders feeling them, mind wandering off to Shiro on top of hi-

“You okay back there?” steals him from the thought, and he shakes his head, answering, “yeah.”

“Alright, because we need to eat these while they’re hot. I added something extra in there, I feel you’ll like.”

“Ye-yeah,” Keith stutters with Shiro in his hold, moving and flexing, and his skin is slick from being by the stove. “Cool.”

“Alright,” but Shiro pauses, and slightly looks back at Keith. “Um…” he chuckles at his boyfriend, small behind him and holding on to him for dear life, “you gonna let me go?” he asks.

“Oh yeah.”

Before he moves away from Shiro completely, he only moves his head back, and he places a kiss between his shoulder blades- soft and delicate, the touch is. It lingers for a moment, and Shiro’s scent wafting under his nose elicits a long sigh from Keith. And he hugs him tighter and nestles closer to him, and feels Shiro tense from the act.

“K-keith?”

“Right,” Keith says, with a smirk in his lips, and he lets his boyfriend go. “Breakfast.”

 

**\- The freeze. -**

 

Saturday morning cartoons are a fun pastime between them, especially when they’re on the couch, and Shiro’s cooking smells heavenly as it does.

“Looks good,” Keith says, plopping down onto the couch, and scooches up some so the table isn’t too far. “Pass the syrup?” he asks his boyfriend to his left, and says “thank you” when he does. He coats the waffles in a liberal amount of the sweet drizzle, asking, “do you want some?” and Shiro politely declines; he’s already cut a square into his waffle, and hums while he chews.

“You better hurry up,” he tells Keith, taking his time in his cutting. “They’re gonna get cold.”

“I’m going,” Keith says back, fork halfway to his mouth, and next thing he knows, he’s humming along with Shiro. “This is good,” he says, mouth full of chewed waffles, and he closes his eyes, revelling in the taste. It’s like the waffles are resonating within him, singing to him, and he moans, “really... _really_ good.”

“I told you I added something extra in there,” Shiro says, smiling with one cheek puffed out a little further. “Cherries.”

“Just cherries?”

“And maybe some chocolate chips,” Shiro says, and takes a sip of milk from his cat mug. “I found a recipe online, and thought I’d do something special for you this morning,” he finishes, licking the milk mustache from his lip.

“Hm,” Keith takes another bite, and then a second, and then a third, stuffing his face. The waffles taste _fucking_ delicious, and he can’t eat them in any sort of modest fashion. Syrup drips from the corner of his mouth, and he almost chokes trying to lick it and keep his food from falling out as he chews.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying it,” Shiro says, raising a brow and chuckling at Keith devouring the treat he made for him. Keith’s breathing heavy while chewing, and after he gulps, he pants; his eyes are low and he looks like he’s in some kind of trance. And pink dusts his cheeks, and he’s beaming amidst the sliver of sunlight peeking through the window.

“You’re…” Keith says, and gulps, and lets out a long breath, “you’re trying to seduce me with these things, aren’t you?” He looks at his boyfriend, and Keith swears he’s shrouded in some angelic glow.

“What are yo-you going on abo-bout?” Shiro asks, voice tottery, trying not to burst out laughing from the statement. “I just made breakfast-”

“You made ‘seductive waffles’,” Keith corrects him, and clears his throat while his chest rises and falls, rapid. “Cherries and chocolate- everyone knows those are seductive treats, and you decided to just... _put_ them in my breakfast?”

“Oh stop it,” Shiro says and turns away from him, leaning back into the couch after finishing his own plate. “It’s only food,” bubbles in the milk, as Shiro takes another sip from his favorite mug. And with how Shiro’s attention is solely on the television, as if he’s engrossed in a cartoon he doesn’t particularly watch, Keith senses that Shiro may be, probably is bullshitting, and trying to ignore him- again.

_Only food,_ Keith grabs his glass and takes a long pull, allowing an ice cube to shuffle into his mouth. Cold it is, and he grimaces when it hits the back of his teeth-

But it’s worth it when he grabs Shiro’s face, earning a “what are you doing?” in response; presses their faces together for a seemingly innocent kiss on the couch. Or Shiro thinks it’s innocent, until Keith opens his mouth and pushes the ice cube into Shiro’s with his tongue, making him jolt, and shifting the cube in Shiro’s mouth, grazing it and his own tongue slowly over Shiro’s each time he moves it. And Shiro’s shuddering and tensing, panting and falling into Keith and this cube and his warm breath ghosting his top lip; it smells of syrup...and black cherries...with a hint of chocolate in the mix.

“Keith,” Shiro moans into the kiss, reaching out to touch his side, but before contact is made, Keith pulls back, sucking on the ice cube.

“Thanks for breakfast,” he tells Shiro, stands up, and collects their plates. Walking away, he hears his boyfriend’s breath stagger, and he snickers to himself.

 

**-The leave a mark/back of the neck. -**

 

Shiro _has_ to be fucking with him, walking into the room while he’s setting up the router his job gave him so they could work from home. And Shiro’s glittering in the sunlight from water droplets trickling down him, and a towel loosely hangs off his hips- threatening to slip any moment if he stretches his leg out too far.

It’s weird, because Shiro _always_ towels dry in the shower, before stepping onto the taupe rug in front of it. And Keith damn near bust his ass the other night, because Shiro removed it from its place, and didn’t think to tell him. “I just took it out the dryer,” Shiro told him, clear cut and direct, while Keith huffed and fumed mad, because he saw his life flash before his eyes, almost falling to the tile floor. “You get out soaking wet and soak the rug, and it ends up smelling, and I hate having to wash it constantly,” he claimed.

But here it is, Shiro’s got his footprints traipsing through the carpet of their bedroom, and that isn’t something you can throw in the machine. And he’s sitting on their bed, soaking the sheets, with his legs wide as he runs the towel over his face. No underwear or clothes in sight, and he’s just...continuing to dry off in front of Keith- his back turned to him, drying his leg, bent down, exposing the smallest portion of his ass.

Definitely fucking with him, Shiro is, as he sits upright, and reaches into the air. His back is moist and glistening in the light, and it captures his muscles flexing in his stretch. And Shiro knows his back is Keith’s weakness, and a given with the few scratches and kiss marks currently healing. Keith glares at him as he rolls his head from one side to the other, and lets out a sigh-

Because Shiro _saw_ him in the room before he did this shit, and is acting like he’s not there.

_Okay_ , Keith thinks, as he goes into the nightstands, and shuffles the contents in it. He finds a small tube, and pops the cap off, rubbing whatever is in it on his lips.

“Keith, that you?” Shiro asks, slathering his leg in lotion; completely aware that Keith is coming up behind him, feeling a dip in the mattress. “I’m gonna try and get some work done,” he says, pumping more into his hand, “and oh- did you ever set the router up? You know we have to clock in on time.”

Keith doesn’t answer, but he does, however, when he presses his lips on the back of Shiro’s neck. And he covers every inch of visible skin, slow and deliberate-

Because it’s Shiro’s weakness, and noted when he sees Shiro’s shoulder twitching from the deed. And lotion’s sliding down his thigh, forgotten in his hand, because Shiro balled it into a fist.

“I did,” Keith finally says, moving back, and Shiro’s completely still. “You can get to it whenever you’re ready,” he says, and leaves Shiro at the close of their bedroom door.

And waiting on the other side, he laughs under his breath, when Shiro screams, “I JUST SHOWERED!”, because Keith has covered the back of his neck in the red lipstick currently smeared across his mouth.

 

**-The finger.-**

 

“Can I place you on a brief hold?” Keith asks the customer on his line; he’s a travel agent that books flights and creates itineraries for businesses. He searches the customer’s name and company, scrolling through the list for flights to accommodate their needs. It’s a job he’s not fond of, but it _is_ easy money, and the deal was sweetened when he was offered the chance to work from home.

He didn’t think his first day would be a trial to get through, because his boyfriend’s come into his office-

Perspiring from the face down with a towel slung around his neck. His hair is damp, and the tuft sticks to his forehead, and sweat beads are rolling, twinkling being caught in that _got damn_ sunlight. And it is catching- once again- the beads rolling down his chest and ridged abs, shimmering in Keith’s peripheral as he comes towards him. And his gym shorts...why are they settled too low on his hips, so the silky, white hairs of his happy trail peaks from under the waistband? Revealing the deep cut, and it’s such a defined “V”  in Shiro’s Adonis Belt that makes Keith’s knees weak. And besides all this, Keith’s screaming in his thinking, _why is he in here anyway?!_

“I thought you just showered,” Keith says, skimming through flights on his computer, as Shiro runs the towel through his hair, still coming towards him.

“Well someone decided to ruin that for me.”

“You only had to wash the back of your neck,” Keith retorts, clicking,  “and if you didn’t know, the work day’s started.”

“I just wanted to get a quick session in,” Shiro says, “I only did thirty minutes on the treadmill, and that’s short for me.”

“Out of forty-five on a normal day.” Keith finds what he’s looking for, and goes back to his phone call. “You’re all set, and I’ll send the confirmation to email. Can you confirm it for me?” he says, and writes the words on a post it note, nodding. “You too,” he ends the call with, and sighs sending said email; pressing send, he leans back to Shiro standing next to him. “Yes, Shiro?”

“Am I bothering you?” Shiro asks, with a slight frown in his lips, and a quirked brow and something like puppy dog eyes come into his features. He can’t look sexy and cute in the same setting, because Keith is mentally screaming, because he either wants Shiro to ravish him, or he cradle Shiro in a hug.

“You’re not.”

“Good,” Keith hears, and then Shiro’s reaching out to him, and he grips the chair arm not knowing what to think. Shiro may try something, suddenly trying to touch him, but the dread subsides when Shiro flicks at his bang. “You had something in your hair,” Shiro says to him, and he thanks him for the gesture- innocent enough until his finger slides down Keith’s face. And it rolls over his cheekbone, and smooths over Keith’s lip, and it’s alarming, just because-

“What are you doing?” Keith asks, as Shiro treads his finger across his lips, and he’s looking at him with something mischievous reading in his grey hues. And Shiro’s coming closer to him, pushing his chair back into the wall. He smells of sweat and soap as he hovers Keith, and his heat is radiating off his body, close to Keith’s face. Keith’s heart pounds in his chest, and his fingers twitch wanting to touch him.

It hits him, and he presses a kiss to Shiro’s finger on his lips, and parts them, sucking Shiro’s finger into his mouth. And he continues to suck on it, and swirl his tongue around the digit, closing his eyes in the act and softly moaning around it.

Shiro’s finger wriggles against his tongue, and his knees bumps his as it buckles, and he hears the faintest grunt come from Shiro. And he doesn’t let up when Shiro tries to pull the digit back, but lets it go on his own time, and opens his eyes.

His boyfriend’s body is flushed, with a rose color in his cheeks, and he’s staring at him, mouth gaped open, causing Keith to smile. “Yes?” he asks him, sneering at him, but Shiro says nothing. He walks out of the office, and maybe his knee did give out on him, because there’s a thud against the wall.

 

**-The text message.-**

 

Keith answers a series of phone calls, booking and changing flights, and one customer’s been a pain in the ass. He can’t wait to go on “break”, and he could anytime he wants, but he doesn’t want to take advantage- especially when his boss deemed him “trustworthy enough” to stay on task at home. And he’s _desperately_ trying to stay on task, while the person asks, _“are you still there?”_ because his mind’s slipped off into a daydream-

A daydream where Shiro is loving him, and he’s under him, clawing at the back he saw after Shiro came into their room after the shower. And damn Shiro for not wearing a shirt _at all_ today, and flaunting his lovely body, sopping wet or dripping sweat. Keith loves Shiro’s body- every scar and imperfection- and even more when it’s on top of him, and smothering him, and connected to him at his as-

His phone vibrates, snatching him from his dreaming, as it jitters on his desk. And as if he knew Keith was thinking about him, it’s an unread text from Shiro. And _as...if_ he didn’t know the game they’ve been playing, he opens it while on a call.

 

_From: Shiro_

_How do I look in this?_

 

It reads, and Keith’s eyes grow wide. Attached is a picture of Shiro, probably from just then- bare and flexing in some apron Keith  has never seen. The neck strap is loose and the top hangs off him, settled below his perky, rose nipples. It’s tied tight around his waist, showing off his figure, with ‘Kiss the Cook’ crumpled in the center. And the apron overall looks too small, covering a small portion of his thighs- not even half of them, but just enough so the part on him that’s stiff and printing the material isn’t exposed. Except it is exposed, because Keith knows what it looks like, and his pelvis tenses in the chair.

_“Are you there, sir?”_ the woman asks him, and “yeah- yes, I’m sorry!” is his response. “The earliest I have is a ten o'clock, with the latest being eight that night,” he tells her, scrolling the flight logs.

He nods and “mhm,” he says, staring at his boyfriend in the damn apron, and Shiro sends:

 

_From: Shiro_

_Did you get the picture?_

 

“Ten o'clock that morning, it is,” he says to the customer, as he types out his response.

 

_To: Shiro_

_Expect a kiss when I see you again._

 

**-The peck.-**

 

He’s flustered. He’s upset, and his leg is shaking in the chair. And his heart is racing, and he’s panting, and he can’t seem to get a grip. His head rests in his hands, and he’s gripping his hair in his fingers, and he’s pulling them back to the point of his eyes stretching. And they’re drying, and he keeps blinking to stop them from hurting, because Shiro-

_Fucking_ Shiro keeps sending him pictures in that _fucking_ apron, in different positions that are driving him _fucking_ insane. And he’s even used food items in the pictures, that read:

_From: Shiro_

_What about a stir fry for dinner?_

Attached with a picture of him squeezing a pepper against his chest, and innocent enough, it made him laugh.

 

_From: Shiro_

_Or would you like zucchini?_

 

He held the vegetable between his legs, oddly enough, resembling his di-

 

_From: Shiro_

_What about dessert?_

 

He had leftover cherries on the counter, and a can of whipped cream miraculously showed up. And the next picture was him dangling a cherry above his mouth, coated with whipped cream, and he licked it.

 

_From: Shiro_

_Or we can have a banana split?_

 

Shiro had a banana stuck in his mouth, with whipped cream seeping from the corner, and the stem of the cherry peaking out. The apron slightly shifted in that picture, and he could see white hairs around his base. And the worst part of this, Keith now knows Shiro _is_ fucking with him, because he’s gone through the trouble of taking said pictures, and, “he only has one arm!” he screams. Shiro’s had to prop the phone up on the counter, and make sure he set the timer long enough- so he could get into position to fuck with his boyfriend, and with precision. And _somehow_ , he’s perfected his method, succeeding at the distracting his boyfriend, and Keith can’t take his shit anymore.

He gets up, and storms out his office, into the living room where Shiro’s sitting on the couch. And he’s fully dressed- in a shirt and lounge pants- with no apron around. He blinks owlishly at Keith, huffing and blushing, with clenched fists at his side. “Is something wrong?” he asks his boyfriend, and Keith’s response is a crash of lips against his. A long peck, it is, and Shiro hums into it, as Keith slides his hand on his arm; grasping it gently with his fingers, but hard as he wants him to get up. Shiro follows suit and stands, not breaking their kiss, until he stumbles on Keith’s foot in his way, and it breaks.

“What’s gotten into you?” Shiro asks him, as Keith’s staring and searching his face, and licks his lips, sighs a moan, and zeroes in on Shiro’s lips.

 

**-The french/lip sucking.-**

 

Keith pulls Shiro to him, melding their lips together as he slides his hand up his arm, into his shirt. Over Shiro’s shoulder it roams, gentle in the touch, and Shiro’s hand rest on the small of his back. And Shiro heightens the stakes, pushing his tongue into Keith’s mouth, and Keith laves his over Shiro’s, sliding his hand down Shiro’s back, trailing fingers along his spine. They continue kissing, and Shiro’s hand goes up Keith’s back, between his shoulder blades, and to his neck; his fingers tread into Keith’s hair, gripping the strands, and he pulls Keith’s head back making him lick across his upper lip. And Keith moans and grips at Shiro’s sides and bites at his top lip, eliciting ragged moans from Shiro himself as he brings him in even closer.

It’s so hot, and the tension grows when they press lips again; Keith goes to touch Shiro’s tongue with his own once more, but they’re impatient, and he ends up licking Shiro’s bottom lip this time. Fervent, it’s repeated long pecks and shuffling of tongues, and Keith grabbing at any part of Shiro his hands can touch; he shudders, and a hard moan pushes from his throat with Shiro taking the chance to suck on his lip. Keith’s arms throw around Shiro’s neck, and there isn’t an inch of room to move, as he carefully glides his lips across Shiro’s in the sloppy kiss they’re in. His hand shifts to Shiro’s jaw, clutching it in his palm, holding Shiro’s face between two fingers and his thumb to keep him steady. He wants Shiro to feel his tongue, and his kiss swollen lips pressing against his; to send blood rushing through him entirely, only to settle in his lower region. This was Shiro’s fault for how he left him this morning, and teasing him throughout the day, and he’s gained the upper hand feeling Shiro stiffening and twitching against him.

It goes on for a minute, and Keith pulls Shiro’s bottom lip with his teeth when he’s finished; releases it, and plants one last kiss to him, direct. He moves back from Shiro, lightly panting as he turns his back. And on instinct, he catches Shiro’s wrist in his hand before he has the chance to slap his ass. “I caught it,” he says with a raised brow, and winks, then walks through the doorway of his office, looking back with a smirk set in his lips.

And Shiro’s breathing hard and blinking when a thought occurs, and he follows after his boyfriend.

 

**-The neck.-**

 

Keith stands in his office, in front of his desk, as Shiro comes up behind him. He turns around, saying, “Oh Shiro, is that you?” only for Shiro to capture him in a kiss. He loses his footing, and stumbles backwards, colliding with the desk behind them. And he winces from the sharp edge prodding his back, but Shiro swallows his pained sigh. Like a switch's been flipped, Shiro grabs his hips, and pulls him  flush against him. He’s hard, and Keith feels it pressing into his thigh, making him moan into Shiro’s mouth. And when he opens his mouth, Shiro sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, pulling and sucking, beckoning hot pants from Keith. Unabashed, Keith is, rocking into Shiro, making feral groans rumble in his throat as he tries to keep his hips from jerking-

But Keith is past the point of being patient, and he pushes up onto his desk to wrap his legs around Shiro’s back and keep him pinned there. Shiro staggers from Keith’s pull and releases Keith’s lip, and he’s looking at him, hazy eyed and sucking on his abused lip. It’s such a _fucking_ turn on, with Keith leaning back on his desk, peering at him like he’s saying, “fuck me right now.”

That is what he’s saying, and Shiro leans into him, for another heated kiss. He presses a kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth, and nips between kisses to his cheek and jaw, and stops when he gets to his neck. Keith crooks his neck to the side, allowing Shiro easy access to suck on his sweet spot. He does, and Keith’s breath catches in his throat, and his legs clench around Shiro’s waist with his pelvis pulling up off the desk. Shiro’s sparing him no mercy, attacking his neck with his teeth and tongue, and sucking viciously at his skin. Another one of Keith’s weaknesses, he knows, because Keith’s gripping at the desk; his nails scratch at the surface the harder he sucks, and the slightest whimper pulls from his throat. He’s gonna make sure he leaves a huge bruise, thick and rich in purple, and Keith will damn sure be glad he works from home.

“Shi-shiro,” Keith says between moans, and then moans, as he tries to keep from moving Shiro off with his shoulder. And the way his name leaves breathless from Keith’s lips, he stops, because he’s pulsing and twitching and painfully stiffening, pressing his head into the bruise.

“Keith…” Shiro says, and gulps, and lets out a heavy breath; his arm’s quaking at his boyfriend’s side, and he can barely keep himself up. “I want you...really bad. I’ve been trying to hold out all day, but you and these kisses have been driving me insane.”

“And how do you think I’ve been feeling?” Keith asks, lifting Shiro’s face up to meet his gaze. “You left me this morning.”

“But I didn’t think you would come at me like this.”

“Hn,” Keith smirks, “I guess you know better now.”

They stare at each other, longing and loving and seductive and lusting, it’s undecipherable at this point; all Keith knows is he’s accepting Shiro slipping his shirt over his head, because _he’s_ wanted Shiro all day long.

 

**-The stomach.-**

 

Shiro’s looking at him, scanning over his skin- ivory and flawless, even with the old wounds that mar it. Back to his neck Shiro is with his kissing, and he flinches at the strike of the bruise. But Shiro’s kisses are soft and tender as they touch every inch of him- down his neck and over his collarbone. At his chest, Shiro gently sucks and nips him, and stops at a rosy bud; he darts his tongue across it, flicking it with the tip, and Keith arches into it. Lave at his nipple, Shiro does, before he closes his mouth around it, and sucks on it, dragging a mewl out of Keith. His toes curl into his soles at Shiro’s back, and he arches more into Shiro; Shiro places his hand at the small of his back, and tries to pull him even more into it. As if he can be any closer to him, but it doesn’t matter- they’ll try to be in each other more every time.

A small string of saliva refuses to break when Shiro’s done with the bud, and it’s swollen and perky, Keith flinches when Shiro’s nose hits it. Shiro chuckles, and proceeds to litter kisses down Keith’s stomach. Keith’s abs are rippling, but his skin is so soft, Shiro sighs relief  in his kisses feeling it against his forehead, and his nose, and his chin. “I love your stomach,” Shiro tells Keith, and sticks his tongue into his navel. And apparently, Keith loves Shiro kissing his stomach, because he’s shifting and moaning as Shiro does.

 

**-The forehead.-**

 

Keith’s mind blanks, when Shiro takes him in, and his legs are trembling on the sides of Shiro’s face. He’s thoughtful in his sucking, and takes Keith in to the furthest reaches of his mouth, covering him completely- in his hot and wet cavern, with his tongue swirling around him. And without so much a gag, breathing in through his nose as he deep throats Keith; he’s done this so many times, he knows what points on him he can press with his tongue, and Keith will unexpectedly buck into him.

Shiro’s head bobs, and Keith’s squirming in his hand, and it would be great if he had his other arm. Keith slips out his mouth, moving just a little too much, and he slaps against the middle of his face.

“So-sorry,” Keith says, panting and putting his hand over his mouth, because Shiro deadpans when it happens. He finds it funny when Shiro groans a sigh amidst rolling his eyes. “I got too excited?” he asks behind his hand, cupping it over his mouth.

“Maybe,” Shiro says and tries to get back to it, but Keith places his hands under his jaw; Keith pulls his face up halfway to meet his lips, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Aren’t you the sweet one,” he says, and smiles with Keith’s kiss lingering a second or three long. And the kiss hardens with Keith’s chuckle vibrating against his head.

 

**-The earlobe.-**

 

Discarded clothes on the floor, Shiro’s waiting at his entrance; Keith sucks in a breath as Shiro pushes forward, stopping when he clenches, hard.

“Am I going too fast?” Shiro asks him, and Keith shakes his head, but his leg continues quivering when Shiro hilts himself and pants on the back of his neck. Shiro laces his fingers with Keith’s on the desk, and Keith clutches the fingers, tight. Even if they’ve done it countless times, it takes a little getting used to at first, with Shiro being thick and long-

But when he does, it’s the best thing in world to him, being full of Shiro and connected to him.

Keith moans with Shiro rocking into him, and his toes dig in the carpeted floor. “Fuck,” he says below a whisper, feeling Shiro deep in him, and hearing Shiro’s hips softly slapping against his ass. And Shiro’s back to kissing his neck, specifically the bruise, and increases its length, adding another mark to it. “Mmm,” he sighs as Shiro picks up the pace, and he’s squeezing his hand tighter. And his desk is rocking against the wall, and bangs into it, and one of his vinyl figures falls to the floor. He’d generally be upset about it, being a collector, and caring about them being perfect, but Shiro thrusting into him and groaning in his ear takes priority at the moment.

“Damn, I love you,” Shiro grunts in his ear, and he clenches around Shiro even more. And the tightness and heat engulfing Shiro as he fucks his boyfriend makes him bite Keith’s earlobe. Keith’s breath hitches as Shiro sucks and pulls on his lobe, and his leg starts quivering even more, threatening to steal his balance from him making him lean on the desk for support. Shiro licks his ear, flat tongue and hot pants against it, and Keith’s eyes shut as he chokes on a moan; it’s so hot with him at his ear, against his back, and in his ass as he’s pressed into the wood, but he would gladly allow his boyfriend to smother him, and he welcomes the promise of suffocating, as long as it’s from Shiro’s love.

“I love you, more.”

 

**-The fish.-**

 

Spent and laying on top of the abused desk, with papers scattered, a frame knocked over, and a series of random characters stringing in a word document, Keith struggles to breath with Shiro on his back- weight pressing the edge of the desk into his stomach. He’s sweating, and Shiro’s sweating, and they’ll need another shower and change of clothes, but he doesn’t want to move for a few moments, basking in the afterglow of his “break session.”

Shiro moves, however, off and out of him, and Keith gasps from the removal. And Shiro’s seed seeps out him, though only some, he groans when it does; it’s the only part he doesn’t love about being connected to Shiro-

The clean up when they’ve finished.

“I’ll go get a washcloth,” Shiro says, but Keith holds his wrist before he can go.

“Wait,” he tells him, and turns to face him, clenching to keep the gooey shit from staining the carpet. “Come here,” he pulls Shiro back to him, and sucks his cheeks in as he does. And Shiro lazily chuckles, and does the same, meeting Keith halfway in the kiss. Keith’s lips slip from the suction first, and then Shiro’s, and then both of them at the same time; then they sit there like idiots, laughing at themselves, and get it right on the fourth try.

Keith sucks in his cheeks more, and his lips move against Shiro’s, and so adorable and endearing it is to him, he slips out of his hold a fifth time. And Keith smiles against his grin, biting his own lip between his teeth, and makes that stupid noise you do when you’re trying to keep from laughing. Like you’re snorting, or maybe choking- snort-choking, as he calls it, and he hugs Shiro with Shiro wrapping his arm around his waist to hug him back.

“I broke you,” Keith says.

“I made you cave in,” Shiro says back.

_“Are you ready to fix my flight issue now?”_ the customer- who’s been waiting on the line since Keith knocked the phone off the hook, and has heard every second of them fucking over twenty-seven minutes- asks.

 

_/End._

**Author's Note:**

> So much fun to write, and I hope you enjoyed it as well. Feel free to let me know what you think. Until next time! ♥


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